The Scenic Route
by DeadPaperMuteandWhite
Summary: One-shot follow-up to my story "I Get It Now." C/O focused. More of the aftermath of the crash, then a glimpse of their lives 5 years later. I own nothing.


Follow up to my story 'I Get It Now." This was supposed to be the first in a series of one shots, but, to be honest, this one kept getting longer and longer and took forever for me write, and I just don't have the time I'd hoped to for writing. Still, it would seem like a waste not to post this, so I hope someone gets something out of it. Hoping there is something in the new season that will inspire some SHORT works. (But I seem to have trouble writing short….)

* * *

~Four days post-plane crash~

It had been two days since Owen and Cristina had reconciled and in that time Owen barely had time to breathe. He had been observing all of the surgeries and procedures that the survivors of the crash underwent. He was making sure the family members had everything they needed and making sure they tracked all of their expenses. He was constantly on the phone with Chief Webber who, despite his experience, was feeling the pressure of managing a hospital that did not currently have heads of Cardio, Neuro, Peds, or Plastics, not to mention Trauma, which Owen was still acting as head of.

Webber was also dealing with fending off the press, who loved a tragedy. Early on, Owen had gathered all of the family members together and they had decided that for the time being they would not speak to the press aside from official statements that would be released about Lexie: one on behalf of the hospital and one from the family. Unfortunately, that didn't do much to keep the press quiet because they had gotten a hold of 'Seattle Medical: Road to Recovery,' the show that had been made about the hospital's recovery from the shooting. Local news programs, and even a couple national ones, had been showing clips of all the people involved in the crash. The clips they were showing most; however, were from the speech Cristina had given at the end of the program where she'd said, "We went through the scariest thing a person can go through and survived," and, "Being a hero has its price." Owen hadn't had a chance to talk to Cristina about that particular fact yet, but he had to soon since they were on the way to the airport to go home.

Owen looked over at Cristina. They were riding a shuttle to the airport after dropping off their rental car and she was staring intently out the window. She was wearing her hair long and loose, because with her dislocated shoulder still not healed, she couldn't do much else with it. Owen tried putting it in a ponytail for her that morning, but she had flatly rejected his efforts. She mumbled something about it being 'bumpy,' though it had looked fine to him. Her arm was in a sling, she had stitches on her forehead, and was wearing a walking boot while some fractured bones in her foot healed, but other than that, you would never guess from looking at her that she had been in a plane crash. A bicycle crash, maybe. And yet, she HAD been in a plane crash and here they were on their way to the airport to get on a plane. Owen felt uneasy about it, but Cristina had insisted.

The day before, Cristina had spent the morning being interviewed by the FAA, who still had not determined the cause of the crash. They had asked her to recount everything she remembered about it, which turned out to be a lot since she had remained conscious through it all. It broke Owen's heart to hear her recount it in such excruciating detail. She had told him a lot, but not all of it and he understood why. He was too familiar with how difficult it is to talk about traumatic experiences.

Cristina held up amazingly well throughout the interview, but when it was over she was exhausted and had insisted that they go back to their hotel room for a nap. Owen had agreed, of course. When they got there Cristina made him lay down first, then she laid on top of him with her head on his chest. Cristina was quiet, but after a few minutes, Owen realized his shirt was wet with her tears. He rubbed her back until she fell asleep and before long, he dozed off, as well. When he woke up about an hour later, Cristina had rolled off of him and over to the other side of the bed. Owen got up and took his phone into the bathroom to check his messages.

One of the messages was from Mike, Owen's old friend who had flown Owen to Boise the night of the crash. Owen called him back and caught him up on how things were going. Mike offered to fly them back to Seattle, but Owen told him he didn't know when they were leaving or when Cristina might be ready to get on a plane again. Owen found out as soon as he hung up his phone and stepped out of the bathroom. Cristina was standing there with one hand on her hip. Owen's heart sank. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I really tried to be qui-"

"I want to go home," Cristina interrupted him. "Now."

Owen nodded, "Okay."

"You don't need to observe all of the surgeries any more. Kepner can do it. She's staying to help Meredith with Zola anyway and she doesn't have anything better to do."

"That's a great idea," Owen said. He hadn't thought of that yet. April and Alex had driven to Boise with Zola and had brought an SUV full of supplies. With the surgeries planned for Derek's arm, he and Meredith would be there for at least another week or two. Owen was sure the hospital wouldn't mind if Kepner took over observing and keeping the families updated. Owen felt a twinge of guilt when he thought about how he'd had to fire April, but if he asked this of her, that was sure to change. He'd been considering hiring her back anyway now that so many key members of his staff were out of commission.

"I want to go home to our home and our bed and get out of FREAKING Idaho!" Cristina continued to rant, "and, furthermore, I-...wait- did you say 'Okay?'"

"Yes," Owen replied. He stepped forward and put his arms around her and she dropped her head onto his shoulder. "If I get started with making arrangements now, I bet we can leave tomorrow."

"Okay," Cristina said burying her face in his chest. "Who was that on the phone?" she mumbled after a moment.

"Mike. He's the one who flew Callie and I out here. He offered to fly us back, but-"

"In his own plane?"

"Uh-huh."

"Is it a small plane?"

"Very."

Cristina let go of Owen and stepped back. She looked up at the ceiling and bit her lip, then after a moment, rubbed her forehead. "Okay," she finally said. "Okay, okay, okay, I can't- I don't want to do a small plane. No, I want a big, commercial plane that is big and normal and familiar. Nothing- not small." She paused and took a deep breath, then released it slowly. "Big. Yes, I can do big."

Owen was stunned. "You...want to fly? No, no, no, we're going drive!"

"No," Cristina said resolutely. "No, I can do it. I can."

Owen couldn't tell if she was trying to convince him or herself. "Are you sure?" he asked. "It's only been-"

"Yes. I want to get home as soon as possible. I can do it. It won't be the same on a big plane. I can do it." She stepped forward and wrapped her good arm around his waist and leaned up against him. "It'll be fine. We'll be together and we'll go home."

Owen looked at her face, just inches from his own. He could tell she was determined. She smiled up at him and he couldn't help smiling back. Owen couldn't bring himself to say 'no', so 24 hours later they were on their way.

"Cristina," Owen said. He reached over and took her hand. She kept looking out the window. "Hey," he said, gently tugging on her arm. He needed her to look at him. "Cristina," he said again. She finally turned her face toward him. He leaned forward until he was looking her in the eye. "Are you sure about this?"

Cristina turned her face back toward the window as she squeezed his hand. "I'm fine," she sighed. "Really, and," she glanced back at him with half a smile on her lips, "you don't have to keep asking. I really appreciate that you're concerned, but-"

Owen smiled and squeezed her hand. "Okay," he said. He was very concerned and he couldn't help it. That smile of hers wasn't quite right and she hadn't looked him in the eye when she said she was okay. But then again, she HAD said she was okay. Maybe he was just being paranoid.

Owen watched Cristina like a hawk as they went through the regular airport routine. She was calm and expressionless, but whenever he caught her eye, she would smile at him. She had her usual focus, but he was afraid it was being directed at keeping herself together.

It was June and the height of vacation season, so it felt like it took an eternity to get through security. The terminal was packed and when they got to their gate, there was nowhere for them to sit. This posed a problem for Cristina, who was easily tired by the effort required to walk in her walking boot. Owen looked around at their soon-to-be fellow passengers. There were plenty of able bodied people slouched in chairs and not one of them offered her their seat.

"Sheesh," he said under his breath. He shook his head and glanced over at Cristina. She smiled blandly at him. Damnit, he thought. She is not right. He was about to say something to her when a young man across the waiting area jumped to his feet and motioned for them to come take his seat. It was an ordeal navigating Cristina through the obstacle course of people and baggage on the way to that seat, but when they got there, Cristina gave Owen a genuine smile of relief and he temporarily forgot about his misgivings.

Shortly before it was time to board, one of the gate crew approached Owen. They had observed Cristina's difficulty with getting to the seat in the waiting area and were going to allow them to board with the first group.

When the time came, Owen gathered up their things and they headed toward the gate. He walked ahead of Cristina to clear the path toward the gate for her. As they approached the gate attendant who was scanning the tickets, Owen looked back at Cristina. "You ready?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm ready. I'm fine, I just...Let's do this," she said dully.

While he was still looking back at Cristina, the gate attendant snatched the boarding passes out of Owen's hand and scanned them. "Enjoy your flight!" she said brightly with a distinct 'please move along' subtext.

The plane had 5 seats in each row and Cristina and Owen were sitting on the side that had two seats together. Cristina sat by the window and after stowing their bags, Owen sat next to her. She had her arms crossed, (as much as she could with the sling,) and was staring out the window, just as she had been earlier on the shuttle. He settled in and fastened his seatbelt and took a magazine out of the seat in front of him and started leafing through it.

Within two minutes, plane was crowded and bustling with activity. Screaming kids, people struggling with their bags, somebody yelping when their foot got stepped on, the full spectrum of humanity crammed into a tin box. Owen looked over at Cristina, who was unchanged. He was afraid if he asked her if she was okay again, she would snap at him, but after a moment he came up with something to say. He leaned into her ear.

"Do you want something to read?" he asked.

She glanced at him quickly and gave him that fake smile that had become her trademark. "I'm good," she said a little too brightly. Owen smiled and patted her knee and kissed her on the cheek. She was tense, but that was to be expected.

Owen turned his attention back to his magazine and became engrossed in an article about the best places in the world to take motorcycles trips. He knew he could probably never convince Cristina to take off work long enough to go overseas, but there were several places around the U.S. that were highly recommended.

"Hey," he said without looking up. Cristina didn't respond. The plane had quieted down considerable and just a couple people were looking for places to stow their bags. Just then, Owen glimpsed something out of the corner of his eye- Cristina's white-knuckled hand clutching the arm rest. Owen dropped the magazine and looked at her. She was facing forward, but had her eyes closed. She was deathly pale. He took her hand from the armrest into his own and she clamped down onto it harder than he thought was possible.

"Cristina!" he said urgently. "How bad is it?"

She cracked open her eyes, which were full of tears and gasped, "can't...breathe..." Owen quickly unhooked his seat belt and raised the armrest between them and wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he dared. Damnit, he thought. Damnit, damnit, damnit! Just then one of the flight attendants walked up the aisle toward them.

"Sir!" Owen said. The flight attendant stopped and looked at them curiously. "Has the plane door been closed yet?"

"No, but they're just about too-"

"Stop them now! Please! My wife is having a panic attach and we need to get off the plane." Just then, Cristina gasped as if she had just surfaced after being under water for too long. The flight attendant's just about popped out of their sockets and he practically sprinted to the front of the plane.

Cristina's breathing was ragged and noisy, but at least she was getting air now. Owen kissed the top of her head and murmured, "I got you, I got you.." over and over into her hair.

Two hours later, Cristina and Owen were in a cab on their way back to the hotel. They had both been silent for the entire ride. Owen had his arm around Cristina. He had kept in constant physical contact with her since she had been struck by the panic attack.

The flight attendant had stopped the airplane door from being closed just in time. Once it was determined that Cristina didn't need to be rushed to the hospital, they had to wait to be interviewed by a representative from the FAA, who just happened to be one of the group that had interviewed Cristina the previous morning. Cristina gave a few monosyllabic responses, but for the most part, Owen did all the talking.

Owen could taste the interviewer's thinly veiled judgment as he answered the questions, and he felt like he deserved it. He felt terrible. He never should have let her get on that he plane. He should have known better- no, he did know better, he thought. He just didn't want to fight her and, to be honest, he was as anxious to get home as she had been. If he was really, really honest, he thought, he would admit that he had been blinded by how happy it made him that she was anxious to go home with him. It hadn't been decided, yet, whether or not she was going to Mayo. They hadn't had a chance to discuss it and he was desperate for any sign that she would stay.

A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of the hotel that had been their home since the crash. Thanks to Callie's dad, who owned the hotel and had donated rooms to everyone affected by the crash, they would be heading back to the room they had left earlier that day.

When they got to their floor and stepped off the elevator, Owen kept walking, but Cristina stopped in her tracks.

Owen looked back at her and was struck by how tired she looked. Cristina had exerted herself more today than she had in all of the other days since the crash combined. It was a long walk to their room at the end of the hallway. "I'll carry you," Owen said.

Cristina shook her head. Owen waited patiently and after about a minute, Cristina started walking. When they finally made it into the room, Owen locked the door behind them, then turned back around to find Cristina sitting on the edge of the bed. He paused as he watched her bend over, take off her shoe, then throw it as hard as she could against the wall.

"Cristina!"

Cristina put her face in her hands and her shoulders started to shake.

Owen dropped the bag he was still holding and rushed over to put his arms around her.

After several moments she started to calm down. She pulled herself away from him, wiped the tears from her cheeks, then took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking.

"Sorry? Why?" Owen said.

"I knew. I knew I wasn't ready."

"I did, too," he said. He felt tears start to sting his eyes. "I knew it in my gut and I never should have agreed. It's not your fault."

Cristina shook her head. "I told you it would be okay."

"No! You are traumatized, you can't be expected to make those kinds of decisions!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Cristina said standing up. "I am not THAT traumatized!"

Owen stared up at her incredulously. "You've gotta be kidding me."

Cristina pouted out her bottom lip and wiped a tear from her cheek. "Whatever, I- I just wanted to be okay."

Owen stood up and wrapped his arms around her. "I know. I'm sorry, Cristina. I'm so sorry-"

"No!" Cristina said, shoving herself away from him. "I don't need you to be sorry!"

Owen scoffed. "I wasn't apologizing! I was going to say that I'm sorry this happened to you!"

"Oh," Cristina said meekly. She turned and sat back down on the bed.

Owen rubbed his hand through his hair in frustration. He walked over to the door and picked up the bag he had dropped and set it on the dresser. He stood there for a moment, then spun around.

"But, I AM sorry. This didn't have to happen. This shouldn't have happened, and I do feel responsible because I'm your husband and I'm supposed to protect you."

Cristina shook her head. "You can't protect me from everything."

"I know that, but I could have protected you from this. I let you talk me into it against my better judgment." Owen sat next to Cristina on the bed again. "So, I'm sorry. I knew better and I shouldn't have let something like this happen to you again."

"Again?" Cristina asked, turning her face toward him.

Owen leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "After the shooting," he said quietly. "The day after the wedding."

"Oh," Cristina said. She was quiet for several moments. "That wasn't your fault, either. I didn't think I was ready, but I didn't say anything." She sighed, "it was a good idea. It probably would have worked if it hadn't been for Avery the klutz. This time I thought that as long as everything went smoothly, it would be fine. Everything did go smoothly. Everything was perfect, but...then it wasn't fine..."

Owen scooted over and put his arm around her shoulders. "It was just too soon," he said. Cristina nodded. "It's okay to admit it if you can't handle something," he continued. "I want you to be able to tell me so I can help you." Cristina nodded again and laid her head on Owen's shoulder.

After several moments, Owen spoke again, cautiously, "Also, I really think you should go to therapy."

Cristina sighed. "No."

"No?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Well, as long as I don't get on a plane, I'll be fine."

"You don't know that."

Cristina sat up straight and looked at him. "Excuse me?"

"This experience- this trauma could cause the symptoms from your previous trauma to resurface."

Cristina shrugged her shoulder, "Phft, whatever."

"No, not whatever. It's a very real possibility!"

"I just don't think I need therapy! I'm fine now that I'm not on a plane. I feel fine!"

Owen nodded. "So, you want to wait and find out that you're not actually fine the next time you step into an OR?"

Cristina laid back on the bed and moaned, "I'm tired. Do we have to talk about this now? I mean we're going to be stuck in the car all day tomorrow taking the freaking scenic route!"

"No, that's fine. End of discussion, but I am going to call Dr. Wyatt as soon as we get home."

"Owen! Wha- Wait a minute! Dr. Wyatt moved to Kansas."

"Well, I'm hoping she'll agree to do some sessions with us via Skype." Cristina lay listlessly on the bed. Her lack of response irked Owen. He got up and walked over to the dresser and got out the toiletries bag and took it into the bathroom. When he emerged, he said, "I just don't know how you can be so opposed to therapy when you know how much it helped me."

"I thought this discussion was over."

"Sorry, it's not," he said as he sat back down on the edge of the bed. "I should've made you go to therapy last time, too."

"Well, I did go to therapy with Teddy's flavor-of-the-month and it was pointless."

"From all accounts, you didn't take it very seriously."

"And, if I remember rightly, you're the one who convinced them to clear me for surgery!" Cristina sat up with a triumphant smirk.

"You're right. You're right, I did, but that was only step one." Owen stared down at his hands. "You weren't making any progress and I thought getting you into surgery might kick-start things. The plan after that was to get you back into therapy. But, you know how that ended."

"Actually, step one was marrying me. That was a very ambitious plan."

Owen glanced over his shoulder at her and gave her a smile, which she returned. "I know."

"Well, for what it's worth, I appreciate that you let me be and in the end it worked out fine."

Owen turned around and took her hand. "I know. I know it turned out okay, but it could have been easier. It could have been shorter."

Cristina squeezed Owen's hand. "Maybe. Maybe it would have helped, but we'll never know."

"No! Damnit, I do know!"

Cristina sighed, then let go of Owen's hand and got up and went into the bathroom.

Owen rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted. If things had gone according to plan they would have been having dinner at their favorite restaurant back in Seattle just then. Instead, here they were: tired, hungry, and bickering at each other back in this hotel room, which had suddenly lost any sense of home it had acquired in the past 4 days.

Owen pulled out his phone and started scrolling through the sizable list of Boise restaurants he had saved. He could hear Cristina washing her hands as he paced toward the bathroom door. "What do you want to eat?" he called out.

"I don't care," Cristina replied lifelessly. While Owen ordered a pizza, Cristina came out of the bathroom and sat on the bed. After Owen hung up, he sat next to her.

He could tell she had something to say. He could see her turning it over in her mind.

"Therapy," she said slowly, "did not help our marriage." Those words were like a dagger into Owen's heart. He closed his eyes and dropped his head. He didn't speak until he was sure his voice wouldn't break.

"You're right," he said. "You're right. That was an epic failure." That was putting it mildly. "Things don't always go as planned when you're getting treatment. Maybe it's the fault of the doctor, maybe it wasn't exactly the right form of the treatment, or maybe...maybe it's just something to do with the patient, but it doesn't mean you shouldn't try again."

Cristina glanced sideways at Owen. "Are you trying to equate therapy with surgery?"

"I guess, yeah. I guess I am." Owen finally met Cristina's eyes and gave her half a smile, which she returned. "I trust Dr. Wyatt. She knows our history and even if she isn't able to help us, I would trust anyone she recommended." Cristina sighed. "I'll go with you," Owen continued. "I need to go with you, because aside from the crash we have a lot of other things to work through."

Cristina scoffed. "I see, so you were just using the crash to trick me back into therapy."

Owen shook his head and looked back down at his feet. "Making sure you're okay is the number one goal, but if we establish a relationship with someone we can trust, then that's- that would be a very good thing, because PTSD is something that we're probably going to have to deal with from time to time for the rest of our lives." Or at least for as long as you stay with me, Owen added in his head. He hated carrying that with him. That thing that he always had to keep on guard against. He didn't want Cristina to have the same lot. He hoped against hope that she could put her trauma behind her and not be haunted by it like he was. He needed to say that out loud. "I just don't want this to turn into something you can't get rid of."

Owen felt Cristina's hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked at her. Her eyes were shining with tears. She nodded and said, "Okay." Owen wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair.

* * *

~Five years and one month post-plane crash~

Cristina was riding the elevator down to the ER. There had been an explosion at a popular fireworks stand and they were about to be inundated with trauma cases. It was the day before the fourth of July- the one holiday she and Owen always made a point to work. This was because there was usually an increase in trauma cases, and for Owen, the hospital offered refuge from the noise of fireworks. They had never caused him to be severely triggered, but he felt more comfortable avoiding them. You couldn't hear any of the local fireworks shows from the depths of the hospital.

Tomorrow is July 4th, Cristina thought as drummed her fingers on her swollen stomach. Their son, Nathan, was due in exactly 3 months from that date. She had a check-up just that morning and everything had looked good and was on track. She really hoped he was on time, because there was a conference she wanted to attend in November. She didn't think it was right to hope that he would come early- she wanted him to be fully developed and healthy. If he came on his due date, October 4th, that would give her six weeks to recover before the conference, and that would be just right.

She patted her stomach. "Punctuality is a virtue, little buddy," she spoke out loud (ONLY because she was alone in the elevator).

The elevator doors opened and Cristina stepped out into chaos. The ambulances had already started to arrive and there were gurneys and residents everywhere. Cristina made her way down the hall to the ER. It looked like a lot of the injuries involved burns and/or shrapnel.

Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice behind her. She turned and saw Owen striding down the hall barking orders at a resident who was trying his best to keep up with Owen while scribbling down notes. Owen was wearing dark blue scrubs and had a trauma bag slung over one shoulder.

When he was within earshot, she called out his name, but he didn't hear it. He didn't see her, either, because his head was turned away from her as he talked over his shoulder.

When he was right next to her, Cristina yelled, "Owen, stop!" He indeed stopped- quite abruptly- and the resident he had been talking to slammed into his back. Owen spun around and glared at the poor kid, then hissed through his teeth, "Go gather up those supplies. Now."

Owen turned to Cristina as the resident scurried away. "What's up? Do you need a case?" Sheesh, she thought. He's in a foul mood.

"Where are you going?" she asked, pointing to the trauma bag.

"To the site of the explosion."

"Why?"

"Because there are people who need to be triaged there."

Cristina rolled her eyes. "No, why are YOU going? What's wrong with Lee and Kepner?" Dr. Lee was the head of trauma and Kepner was a trauma attending.

"Nothing. There are a very large number of casualties that need to be attended to." Owen turned and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Cristina called out. She followed him a few steps and grabbed one of his arms. He stopped walking and twisted his arm, so she was forced to let go of it.

"What?" He asked. She was about to ask him what had crawled up his butt and died, but decided against it as it probably wouldn't improve his mood. Instead she went with, "It doesn't sound safe."

"They're pretty sure they've got the fire under control."

"OK, now it really doesn't sound safe," Cristina said. "I don't think you should go."

"It's fine."

"It's not your job!"

"It is in a situation like this!"

"Maybe it is, but I have a bad feeling about it."

"A bad feeling?"

"Yeah, in my gut," Cristina said. Owen's eyes darted down to her stomach and stayed there. Cristina had her hands resting on either side of her stomach.

"Oh!" Cristina said, "I didn't mean- I wasn't trying to pull baby rank on you."

Owen shook his head and with effort pulled his eyes back up to her face. "I won't go," he said simply.

"Thank you," she replied.

Just then, April appeared at the end of the hall with a clipboard. "Yang!" she called out. "Open chest wound in 3!"

Cristina paused and looked up at Owen. Even though he had agree not to go, she still had a bad feeling. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Owen said solemnly. Then, he stepped forward and kissed her lightly on the lips and said, "Go get'em." Cristina smiled at him and they parted ways.

Ten minutes later, Cristina headed up to the OR with her patient. After about 2 hours, they lost the patient and Cristina barely had time to grab a snack before they brought up another victim of the explosion. Five more hours and she was finally done. She glad that she had gotten the one save, but her feet were killing her.

After she was done scrubbing out, she found that Owen had sent her a text message about 20 minutes earlier. It said, "Home. Left you the car. -O" Cristina's mood sank when she read it. This was not normal. He never left without her, especially if she was almost done with a surgery, and especially if it was late, which it was, unless he was sick, or- damnit, maybe he's triggered, she thought. She hadn't seen him since their brief conversation earlier, and that was unusual, too. He usually checked in on her when she was in surgery for a long stretch.

Cristina quickly changed into her street clothes and headed home. While she was driving she worried over what might be wrong, but she kept coming back to PTSD given how he had behaved earlier. Shortly after the place crash, Cristina and Owen had started doing therapy sessions with Dr. Wyatt via Skype. In the beginning, they focused on Cristina's PTSD, but before long, they delved into all of the other issues that had plagued them in the months leading up to the crash. She helped them work on communicating and managing their stress, both of which were important in keeping Owen's PTSD under control. Now, they just checked in with Dr. Wyatt every month or two. They had been in maintenance mode for quite a while, as it had been almost 3 years since Owen's last episode. It had been a severe one, but mercifully short. They had made it through, and Cristina thought they had been stronger than ever since. She was proud of how well they managed Owen's condition, but they had learned from that last episode that no matter what you did, there was always the chance it could crop up. The key was learning from each new situation and adapting to it.

Cristina arrived at the firehouse a short while later. When she unlocked the door and opened it, she was slammed with the sound of the television, which was turned up full blast. She took a moment to collect herself. This was happening. He was triggered and they were going to have to deal with it.

Cristina took a deep breath, then slammed the door. She wanted to make sure she didn't startle him when she got to the top of the stairs, but given how loud the TV was, she wasn't sure that she could make enough noise to alert him of her presence.

She stomped up the stairs. When she was about halfway up, there was a pause in sound and she fake coughed as loudly as she could. She had learned that surprising a triggered Owen could be a bad thing. Luckily, she hadn't learned that from experience, but from their time in therapy.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Cristina found the scene she expected: Owen was sitting on the couch and the TV was on, but he wasn't looking at it. It was tuned in to some sports news show. She dropped her keys on the hard floor. "Oops!" she said a little too loudly. Owen glanced at her and gave her a nod, but his eyes were vacant and distant. She picked up her keys and hung up her bag on the stair railing, then walked over and stood beside the couch. She waited for about a minute until a commercial came on, then she picked the remote control up off of the end table and hit the 'Mute' button.

"How bad is it?" she asked, calmly.

Owen sat up straighter. He glanced up at her again and attempted an awkward smile. He stammered, "I- well-, uh-." He took a deep breath and released it slowly, but Cristina could tell it did nothing to steady him. He looked down at his hands and shrugged. "I-, um, I think I'll just sleep on the couch tonight."

Cristina nodded. "Okay," she said as simply as she could. "I'm just going to get a glass of water. Do you want anything?"

"No." Owen shook his head. "Thank you," he added as a sudden afterthought.

Cristina set the remote back down then turned and walked into the kitchen. She wasn't actually thirsty, but she needed a moment to herself.

She slowly got a glass out of the cupboard. If he thought he needed to sleep on the couch, this could be pretty bad, but they needed to talk it out for her to be sure.

She walked over to the sink. From the chatter she had heard on her way out of the hospital, she'd gathered that Owen had not gone to the site of the explosion. She was grateful for that.

She turned on the tap and filled the glass. She hated seeing him like this. He was sad and scared and, damnit! she was starting to tear up- No! she chided herself.

She turned off the water and looked up at the ceiling and blinked to keep the tears from forming. If he saw that she was upset right now, it would only make things worse.

She took a long drink from the glass. The thing she hated the most about being pregnant, so far, was how hormonal it made her.

She turned the sink on again to top-off her glass. The first trimester nausea and exhaustion had come and gone. The second trimester insatiable appetite for sex had come and, sadly, gone, but throughout her pregnancy the one constant was that she obsessively worried about Owen and couldn't bear to think of him being hurt or upset. The littlest thing could turn her into a sobbing mess, but this wasn't the time for that.

She turned off the water. They would get through this. They had before and they knew how to handle it. She nodded to herself and walked back into the living room.

The sports thing Owen was watching had come back on, but Owen hadn't un-muted it. Cristina eased herself into the arm chair and pushed the button to pop-up the foot rest.

"So," she started slowly, "what do you think was the trigger?"

Owen glanced at her, then looked down at his hands. "I didn't go the site."

"I know," Cristina said. "Hey," she said. When he looked up and met her eyes, she repeated, "I know." Owen nodded.

Owen took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. "There was a young man in his twenties, who had his hand nearly blown off." Owen looked down at his own hands and shook his head. "I froze. I froze for- for just a few moments, but then I was able to get him stabilized and up to surgery. The rest of the day I just didn't feel right and as soon as I could I had to get out of there. I'm sorry I left without you."

Cristina nodded, but didn't say anything. It wasn't that she didn't believe him, she just knew that an isolated incident like that wasn't likely to be enough, at least in Owen's case.

Owen seemed to sense that she was conflicted and continued, "I think it was also partly the volume of patients." He glanced at Cristina and she nodded again. From what she'd heard, they had been practically overwhelmed. The entire ER and clinic had been filled to capacity with victims to the point that they'd had to turn people away. "And also," Owen continued, "the type." Cristina nodded a third time. It was true- there weren't a lot of explosions in Seattle and when there were, there weren't usually mass casualties. But, still…

"Huh," Cristina accidentally spoke to herself out loud.

Owen looked at her from under his furrowed brow. "Huh?" he replied.

"It's just- all of that happened after I ran into you earlier." Owen looked back down at his hands. "I just thought you were already starting to be triggered when I saw you, that's all."

Owen was quiet for a moment then tried to speak. "I- I mean...I don't-."

"It seemed like it to me," Cristina said, "but, I could be wrong. Did anything unusual happen earlier in the day?" She looked at Owen, but he didn't make any response. She thought back over the day. They had gotten up early and Owen had made them a big breakfast, because they knew with the holiday coming it might be a busy day. He had seemed totally fine then. They had skipped their morning walk because of her check-up and- wait, she thought. "Was it the check-up?" she said out loud. Owen already had his head down, but he managed to duck it down even further.

She closed her eyes as she thought back to that morning. The doctor had checked her out and everything had been fine. She remembered Owen holding her hand through it all. She opened her eyes and looked him. He had his face in his hands. After the exam, she and the doctor had started chatting about the delivery and all the arrangements that would need to be made and then Owen had stepped out because he said he'd been paged- but she didn't actually remember hearing his pager go off.

"Was it the check-up, Owen?" she asked again. No response. It all made sense. He was more likely to get triggered and have an episode, when he had extra stress in his life, and what was more stressful than having a baby?

"It's okay if that stressed you out," she said. "I mean, that's totally normal!" Owen took his hands off his face, but didn't look up. "What- did you have a panic attack or something?" Owen glanced at her quickly and gave her a barely perceptible nod. Cristina pushed down her foot rest and got up and went and sat next to Owen on the couch and took one of his hands in hers.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry that this stressed you out and made you susceptible, but-" Owen finally looked at her, "I'm also kind of relieved, because you've been so calm about all of this and I've been freaking out constantly and, frankly, I was starting to wonder which one of us was crazy!"

"I wasn't- It was just a minor panic attack," Owen mumbled.

"Yeah, well, I've been having those daily!" Cristina said.

"Really?" Owen said, looking alarmed.

"Okay, no, maybe just weekly, but the point is- there is nothing that can adequately prepare you for becoming a parent- not even being a doctor or a badass army major surgeon. So, don't think that you should be immune to the stress it's going to cause. It's totally normal to get stressed out about it and we're going to deal with it and- and we're going to be just fine!"

Owen nodded, then managed to look at her with both relief and concern.

She squeezed his hand. "And, if you want to faint or vomit during the delivery, that's okay, too."

Owen squeezed her hand back. "I seriously doubt that's going to happen." He had a smile playing on his lips, but Cristina could tell he still wasn't at ease.

Cristina smiled back at him and rubbed the back of his hand before standing up and stretching her arms way up over her head. "Alright," Cristina said, "we'll call Dr. Wyatt in the morning."

"I did already," Owen said. "Her answering service said she's on vacation for the next two weeks."

Cristina dropped her arms and looked down at Owen. "Okay, then, Old McDonald it is!" Owen rolled his eyes at Cristina's nickname for their back-up therapist. Dr. Cole McDonnell was part of Dr. Wyatt's practice and had filled in for her before. He was familiar with their history.

Cristina walked over to where she had set down her glass, picked it up, and took a drink. She turned around and looked at Owen. He was looking a his hands again. He was still on edge. She felt like if there was a sudden noise, he would hit the ceiling.

She sat on the edge of the armchair and turned toward Owen, so they were pretty much face-to-face. She maneuvered her face around until she caught his eye. "What are you afraid of_ right now_?" she asked.

Owen sat back on the couch. "I don't-," he mumbled as he rubbed his eyes. "I'm not scared right now," he finally said, looking Cristina in the eye.

"Are you sure? Because it seems like you're about to jump out of your skin."

"I'm not scared," Owen said resolutely. "I'm worried."

Since Owen was in a state, Cristina decided not to point out that worried and scared were practically the same thing. Instead, she just nodded and looked at Owen as if she expected him to keep talking. After a moment he did.

"Ever since what happened earlier, I can't stop thinking- I'm just worried about...what if..." Owen shook his head. "It's- it's-"

"Whatever it is, it's okay," Cristina said, trying to put him out of his misery. "We can deal with it. If you'd rather wait and talk about it with Old Mc Donald-"

"No," Owen said. "I was just worried about what'll happen if this happens while I'm taking care of the baby."

"You mean, if you get triggered?" Cristina asked. Owen nodded. "Well, you'll call me," she continued, "or your mom. Or Callie, or Arizona or Meredith or- it's the same thing any parent would do if they were sick or felt like they were coming down with something- you call for back-up and we've got a lot of people backing us up." Owen nodded again. Cristina went over and sat next to him on the couch again. She leaned against his shoulder. "We're going to be fine. We're more normal than you think." Owen scoffed. "Well, we are!" Cristina said. "Everybody has crap to deal with and I think we handle our crap pretty well. There isn't anyone else in the world I'd rather have taking care of Nathan." Owen was planning to take a leave of absence for at least six months after the baby was born to take care of him and also to work on a book he was writing about trauma certification training.

"It's been three years since your last flair up and I don't think we need to be any more worried about it now. You know the signs and you know how to prevent it. Did you just freeze the one time?"

"Yeah," Owen said.

"Did you have any flashbacks?"

"No."

"Okay, then," she said. "This- having this baby is a good thing- a great thing, but it's easy to forget that even the best things in life can cause stress. This just, kind of caught us off guard, but we're going to manage it just fine." She continued cautiously, "It just seems like, maybe, some of this is that you're stressed out about the fact that you got stressed out."

Owen was quiet for a moment, then nodded and said, "Maybe." She looked up at him and he was smiling down at her. He definitely looked calmer, but she had something in mind that she thought would finish the job.

She stood up. "Okay," she said. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret of mine- something that helps me relax when I get stressed out."

"Okay," Owen said with a puzzled expression.

She bent over and grabbed his upper arm and tugged on it. "Get up! Come on. " Owen obeyed and once he was on his feet, Cristina started tugging on his arm again. "Come on!" she said. She started walking and he followed. She dragged him into the bedroom and over to her side of the bed. She turned her back to him then bent over and took something out of the drawer in her bedside table.

"Ummm, Cristina?" Owen said. Cristina glanced back at him. He looked totally confused. She smiled and straightened up and showed him what was in her hand.

It was a stethoscope.

"It's a stethoscope," Owen said, still puzzled.

Cristina chuckled, "Yes, yes, it is!" She kicked off her shoes, then laid down on her side of the bed. She patted the space next to her. "Come on," she said. "Find the heartbeat," she said.

Owen smiled as he walked around to his side of the bed. He laid down next to her on his side with his head propped up on his hand. He looked deeply into her eyes and asked, "Are you really having attacks every week?"

Cristina squirmed a little bit while she decided what to say. She had to be honest, but she didn't want to freak him out. "Just minor ones, but I don't think that's unusual...Here," she said, holding the stethoscope out to him.

Owen shook his head, then took the stethoscope and put the earpieces in his ears. Cristina lifted up her shirt to expose her stomach. Owen tentatively placed the bell on her stomach, and she placed her hand on top of his and guided to where she was pretty sure the heartbeat could be heard. She watched Owen's face as she moved their hands and she knew the moment he heard it. His eyes lit up and his face broke into a smile. After a moment, he looked over and met her eyes. He was himself again. She smiled warmly at him. "It's better than Xanax, right?" she said.

Owen chuckled. After a few moments, he rested his head on his arm and closed his eyes. Cristina could see the tension melt out of his body and face. After a couple of minutes, his hand that was holding the stethoscope started to droop and Cristina had to hold it in place. She knew he would want to get up and take a shower before he went to bed for the night, but she decided to let him sleep for a little while.

Cristina sighed and felt her whole body relax. She hadn't realized how tense she was. She looked over at Owen. He looked so peaceful and serene. She knew that his stress about the baby coming hadn't just come out of nowhere. It had to have been building up for a while. She didn't think he had purposely been hiding it, though. She was sure he had been in denial and the number one reason he was in denial was because he was so busy being strong for her.

She felt tears start to form in her eyes again, but this time she let them flow. After everything that had happened today, she felt she had earned them. She and Owen were going to be okay, she knew that, but she also had to face the fact that Owen wasn't the only one in denial, because if she was honest, she'd have to admit that she had been putting on a brave face for him, too.

A single tear rolled out of her eye and down her cheek. She hadn't been entirely truthful with Owen. She had been having minor panic attacks regularly for a while. They had been better; however, since she had discovered that listening to Nathan's heartbeat was a surefire antidote for them. Once she had discovered that, she had started listening to his heartbeat as a preventative measure. Whenever she felt stressed or worried or tired at the hospital, she would duck away somewhere quiet and listen to his heartbeat. She had brought the stethoscope home a few weeks ago when Owen was going to have to work a night shift, but since then she found herself sneaking a listen when he was cooking dinner, or when he was in the shower, or when she woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't get back to sleep.

Cristina's vision was getting blurred by the tears in her eyes. Now that she thought about it, she realized that the stress she was feeling probably weren't normal and that a lot of her behaviors were obsessive and she wasn't exactly sure why it was all happening. She didn't think it was the baby, because he always made her feel better. She rubbed her stomach with her free hand. She didn't want Nathan to think this was his fault and she didn't want him to think his mother was a basket case.

Cristina gasped and sobbed.

Owen opened his eyes with a little start. "Hey!" he said softly. He took the stethoscope out of his ears and wrapped his arms around his wife. "Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh," Cristina said between sobs.

"I don't think you are," Owen murmured into the top of her head. "Shhhh," he hummed softly. After a moment, Cristina managed a deep, though somewhat ragged, breath and buried her face into Owen's neck.

Cristina drank him in. She loved him so much, she thought that she would inhale him if she could. Holy crap, that was sappy, she thought next. She chuckled at herself. He did smell wonderful, though. And the way he was rubbing her back- she start wishing he would rub some other areas, and- Oh my god! she thought, one minute I'm crying and the next I'm starting to get turned on! She chuckled at herself again...and then again. She burst out laughing. She wiped away the tears that were still streaming down her face. She looked at Owen and he had an expression on his face like he had just seen her sprout a second head. Oh God, she thought, I'm pathetic! That thought sent her back to tears again.

"Whoa! No, no, no!" Owen said, wrapping his arms around her again. After a moment, she looked up at him. He smiled down at her and when she smiled back, they both started laughing. It took a few minutes for them to calm down, and when they finally did, Owen asked, "What was that all about?"

"To make a long story short- I'm a hormonal mess, but you already knew that," she said, smiling broadly at him.

Owen chuckled, "Well...there's no safe way for me to respond to that." Cristina punched him on the chest playfully, then snuggled back into his arms.

"In a way, I'm glad this happened," Cristina said. "I mean-" she quickly added," I'm really, really sorry it happened-"

"I know," Owen said.

"- but I think we needed a wake up call."

"No, you're right," Owen said. "Things have been so calm and normal for a long time, but we're about to have a major change in our lives and we've got to make a point to really talk about it."

"Yes," Cristina said. "I'm sorry everything has been about me lately."

"There's a very good reason for that. I'm sorry for-"

"No," Cristina said, cutting him off. "You don't need to be sorry. We're both doing the best we can. I have no doubt about that." Owen lifted her chin with his finger and kissed her softly on the lips.

After a few minutes, they got up and got ready for bed. After his shower, Owen settled down to sleep on the couch.

As Cristina lie in their bed alone trying to fall asleep, she realized that the stethoscope was still laying in the middle of the bed. She quietly took it, put the earpieces in her ears , then found Nathan's heartbeat. She didn't know exactly why she had been so stressed out, but she knew why listening to Nathan's heartbeat helped. He was a miracle. She knew everything about hearts- how they functioned, how to fix them, even how to grow them in a lab using stem cells, and she took great pride in all that she had been able to accomplish and all the people she had been able to help with that knowledge. Still, none of that compared to how it felt to have a heart growing inside her that she and Owen had created together.


End file.
